


Mature, Sophisticated, Worldly Woman

by DancingGrimm



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Age Difference, Body Hair, Casual Sex, F/M, Hammocks, Humour, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingGrimm/pseuds/DancingGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper is asleep in his hammock and Scout is watching him sleep and trying to decide if she wants to fuck him.</p><p>Not in a creepy way.</p><p>He's just lyin' there, sleeping like a baby, arms behind his head, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his hat over his face. He won't know what hit him. In a good way. She's just got to keep everything under control. Be cool. Be seductive. Be a mature, sophisticated, worldly woman. </p><p>She's totally got this in the freakin' bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mature, Sophisticated, Worldly Woman

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from because I hardly ever write het, but I'm pretty sure that Sinuswave and her fabulous [fem!Scout](http://sinuswave.tumblr.com/post/127961658029/femscout-yeeey) design are at least partly to blame (or credit).  
> Enjoy :)

Sniper is asleep in his hammock and Scout is watching him sleep and trying to decide if she wants to fuck him.

 

Not in a creepy way.

 

It's tricky to figure out though, even if it probably shouldn't be. But, like, her whole life she's been thinking that _these things_ were sexy, and _other things_ maybe could be a little sexy, but it was almost all _these things_.

 

And _these things_ mostly come down to big muscles, and being good at sports, and being able to chug a whole bunch at a party and not wreck the furniture. Because that was what all her brothers wanted to be like, in order to be hot for girls. And that was the kind of guys all her girl friends wanted to fuck, and the kind of guys she'd always dated, and she's just never questioned it. Because you don't question stuff that's made sense your whole life, right?

 

And then she came to Teufort and got her freakin' mind broadened.

 

Sniper doesn't have big muscles. Yeah, he's in pretty good shape. They all are, because you don't stay a lardass for long if you're running around a battlefield all damn day (unless you're Heavy, but he must be some kinda special case). But Sniper's all long and wiry and...actually, he's built sorta like her, only guy-her.

 

Sniper's no good at sports, unless you completely rule out any sport involving a ball or running fast, both of which he stinks at. You wouldn't think a tall guy with such good aim could suck so bad at basketball but he really, really does.

 

She has no idea how much Sniper can drink before he falls through a coffee table, but he's probably one of those guys who spends a whole party in the kitchen playing poker for M&Ms with your friend's older brothers and trying to make out he's too cool for everyone else.

 

So Sniper shouldn't be sexy, right? She shouldn't be standing here, staring at him, trying to pretend that she doesn't just want to go over there and give him the ride of his life. Right?

 

But then there's the _other things_.

 

Because Sniper has a hairy chest.

 

The only time she ever slept with a guy older than her before was when she was 17 and he was 21 and even looking back he was still kinda clean cut, like he wasn't quite even an adult. She's 19 now, and that's still the oldest guy – and the oldest _looking_ guy – she ever did it with. She's never fucked a guy with much body hair.

 

And then God damn Sniper went and took his shirts off when they were walking back to the barracks that real hot day last week and his chest hair was like a freakin' rug, all thick and springy, and Scout couldn't stop looking at it. It was like there was a little voice in her brain going 'stick your hand in there!' And she was like, no way. And the voice was like 'do it, it probably feels real good!' And she was like, no way again, probably sweaty and gross. And the voice was like 'yeah, exactly'. And this is the kind of shit you learn about yourself when you share living space with a bunch of older guys, 'cause she couldn't stop thinking about what sweaty chest hair would feel like between her fingers.

 

Then there's his voice.

 

When she first met him, she thought his voice was all growly like that because he smoked too much. But he doesn't actually smoke that often, at least not that she's seen. Nothing like what some of the other guys get through. Maybe it's because he sometimes goes so long without speaking, or maybe it's some Australian thing. Hell, maybe it's just in his blood. Could be he was just born growly and grew up growly and his kids'll be growly too.

 

Whatever. The trouble is, yesterday they both turned up in respawn at the same time, and she was pissed off because every time she made a run for the point, the other team's Pyro popped up from outta some cover somewhere and burned the shit out of her and it was driving her crazy. She was just about to head out and try again, when Sniper put his hand on her shoulder, leaned in close, and said into her ear;

“Gimme a minute to get in position, then go for it. I'll take care'a yah.”

 

She got wet.

 

Got wet all over again when, a couple of minutes later, she was running for the point and she only got a glimpse of the Pyro coming up on her left when BOOM fucker was dead with most of his head missing. BOOM again on her right, and she hadn't even seen who the hell that was. When she was done capturing the point, she looked up and Sniper winked at her. She could tell, even with the distance and the glasses.

 

She'd had to go and change her panties between rounds, and yeah, inconvenient, but she'd never met a guy who could get her that excited from just saying something to her.

 

And there's a hundred little other _other things_. His weird smile, with all the teeth. The blurry little tan lines where his glove and his watch and the band of his hat sit. His dusty, warm, gun oil smell. The way he handles his belongings, his weapons, like he wants to touch them all over before he uses them for whatever he picked them up for.

 

The fact that he's got to be, like, about 40. Probably. More than twice her age and she feels damn good an' dirty for finding that a turn on.

 

So yeah, she's allowed to be a little confused, and maybe take a little time to think this over, because brave new world here. Brave new world in which she has the hots for this guy whose nothing like she's ever known before.

 

She's still all kinds of confused about Miss Pauling, but she's not going to think too hard about that right now.

 

She's made up her mind though, she's goin' for it. He's just lyin' there in his hammock, sleeping like a baby, arms behind his head, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his hat over his face. He won't know what hit him. In a good way. She's just got to keep everything under control. Be cool. Be seductive. Be a mature, sophisticated, worldly woman.

 

She's totally got this in the freakin' bag.

 

The hammock's tied up between two big wooden posts which used to be part of a lean-to, in an open, empty area out the back of the main base building. It's sunny out there in the afternoons, and there's grass growing underfoot, and a bunch of those big cacti here and there. It's a big hammock, wider than her bed and long enough that Sniper, who's pretty damn tall, fits into it nicely. He's spread a blanket in it, probably so he doesn't get waffle prints on his back off the mesh stuff it's made out of.

 

Scout walks up to the edge of the hammock, sets her stance wide, cocks her hip and puts her hand on it, flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder. Clears her throat loudly.

 

Nothin'.

 

Lazy fucker's got his shirt off ( _chest haaaaaaair_ ), and it's piled up with his boots under the hammock. His feet are bare, his hands too. Tan lines.

 

Scout reaches over and lifts the hat, reaches past him to set it down in the top corner of the hammock. Nothin'. Doesn't wake him.

 

She takes a deep breath and asks herself; what would a mature, sophisticated, worldly woman do?

 

She reaches under the hammock and smacks him on the butt.

 

“Yo, Snipes!”

 

“Jesus!” Sniper yells, and he kinda jerks in what she thinks is the hammock style of sitting upright, because you can't actually sit upright in those things.

“What the fuck are you doin'?”

 

“You look comfy,” Scout says, cocking her hip and flicking her hair again.

 

He stares at her for a second, frowning, then says “I was asleep,” all growly like.

 

“Sleep's boring. Lemme get in there with ya'.”

 

She tries to kinda hoosh him over, but he's too heavy to hoosh and she ends up just rocking the hammock. He glares at her a bit, but she keeps trying, and after a few good shoves, he just gives up and budges to one side so she can climb in. Easier said than done, but after a couple of false starts, she figures out that she can kind of sit on the edge and then she oughtta be able to just twizzle around and lie down, right?

 

“At least take the bloody cleats off,” Sniper mutters once she has her butt in the hammock, and she grins at him over her shoulder and kicks them off, then twizzles around and lies down next to him. She's on the right and he's on the left with his arms still behind his head, and she kind of lies against his side for a couple of seconds waiting for him to move. He doesn't. Just raises his eyebrow.

 

“What'cha want, kid?”

 

She rolls her eyes, then rolls her body towards him and throws her leg over his thighs. Gives him her best 'come hither' look, her cheek resting on his hard, skinny bicep.

 

He lowers his eyebrow, then raises the other one. “That ain't an answer.”

 

Seriously? Do guys get stupider as they get older or something? Because any of the guys she'd made out with in high school woulda been wrestling with her bra hook by now.

 

“Well I ain't here for the sparklin' conversation, am I, ya cranky fuck,” she says, and kisses him.

 

He grins against her lips like he knew what she wanted the whole time, and she smacks him on the side of his ribs just to show him what's what. Little snuff of laughter against her face, and she sticks her tongue out to get him to open his mouth, only to find that it's already open, and then he's really seriously kissing her back. Like, seriously. No dicking around, hesitating over how much tongue to use, how tight he should hold her, none of that shit. They're just sucking face, like two grown-ass adults should.

 

She can feel his pointy little teeth with her tongue, taste coffee in his cheeks and metal from where he must have held a bullet or something between his lips earlier. She gets her left arm around the back of his neck, shoves her right hand into his chest hair without even thinking about it, and fuck yeah, it feels so damn nice between her fingers, coarse and smooth and crispy all at once.

 

One of his hands is cupping the back of her head, and the other sweeps slowly down over her butt, feels up the back of her thigh, then sweeps sloooowly back up again, up under the edge of her t-shirt. He leaves it on her waist, warm and calloused and kind of freakin' huge, just waiting to see if she throws him off. And, of course, she doesn't. So he slides it up higher and squeezes her right boob.

 

It's a good squeeze. No, seriously. Some guys barely touch you and some guys act like they're trying to juice a freakin' orange or something, but Sniper cups it in his palm, then sort of slips down and scoops up underneath it with his fingers, and just squeezes nice nice nice until his fingers slide on her bra cup and he's pinching her nipple through the fabric. Damn, she loves having her tits played with.

 

She's about to tell him that it's a sports bra, the hook is in the front, but before she can figure out how to get his tongue out of her mouth (and her own tongue out of his) so she can speak, he's already found it and flicked it open, and she's never sleeping with anyone under the age of, like, thirty, ever again.

 

She's still groping his chest, and damn but his pecs are really good and hard, and it must be the archery 'cause he does fuck all else that could've made that happen. His hand under her shirt is warm and dry and she never really thought about callouses before except her own, but they feel nice. He's rubbing the pad of his thumb against her nipple, and yeah, he can just keep doing that for about the next week.

 

He tilts his head back, breaking the kiss with a little wet noise, and before she can protest, he brings his knee up so his thigh is right between the tops of her legs, spreading them a little and not quite pushing against her pussy.

 

He looks at her face, consideringly, and she concentrates real hard on trying not to look too obviously like she wants to fuck. Worldly, mature...whatever. All that shit. He grins at her, weird smile, pointy teeth.

 

“You got nice little boobs,” he says, and she has a vague feeling that she should maybe slap him for calling them little, but hell, they are.

 

Just, when she's horny, words seem to come out of her mouth without her brain telling them to. Like, more than usual.

 

“Not boobs,” she says. “Call 'em titties.”

 

He gives her an eyebrow-y sort of look, then seems to shrug. Which is just as well because she's a modern woman and she wants things just so.

 

“Okay then, titties,” he says agreeably. He pronounces it like 'tiddies'. “You wanna pull up your shirt an' let me play with 'em?”

 

Hell yes she wants to do that. She scoops up her shirt and her bra kind of gets scrunched up with it too, all under her armpits, and Sniper grins at her, curls his body forward, sliding his thigh between hers so they're almost crotch-to-crotch, leans down until his breath and his lips and his stubble are on her neck and then her collarbone and then the little soft, flat bit at the top of her tit, and then his tongue flicks out and licks at the same nipple he's been feeling up for the past couple minutes and, _yeah_ , that's what she's talkin' about.

 

His thigh's right up between her legs now, and she's pretty sure she's humping it but she doesn't care, and hell, he wouldn't have put his leg there if he minded getting humped. She's got one hand in his hair, and the other on the top of his arm, feeling up the long, hard, skinny muscles there that are so well defined she can run her fingers down the little valleys between them. He's sucking her tit pretty hard and she can feel a little brush of his teeth every now and then, and she's biting her lip because if she makes too much noise somebody might look out of one of the windows she _just freakin' remembered_ are all over the nearby wall of the base.

 

She can't make herself care too much about people who might be inside though. Sniper's skin is warm like he just got out of a bathtub, and she's so turned on she's pretty sure her shorts are wet.

 

Sniper pulls his lips off her tit with a long, moist slurp, and when she looks down at her shiny wet nipple it looks all stretched up and pulled out of shape, feels tingly and happy. Happy little tit.

 

Sniper sweeps his hand down her flank then pushes on her hip, and she rolls most of the way onto her back, his leg still between hers, though lower, no longer in humping range. She looks down and there's a dark patch on the leg of his jeans and it's her wetness on his leg and she would really really love to take a picture of that for posterity.

 

His arm is still under her and he pulls her to him again, leans down and starts on her other tit, actually sucks the whole damn thing into his mouth this time. And shit, she doesn't even get to figure out if she likes that, because his other hand is low on her tummy, and it takes her a second to realise that he's tugging at the button on her shorts. She reaches down with the hand that isn't still gripping his hair and undoes it for him – guy's a freak, he can handle a bra hook but not a button – and he doesn't waste a second. Hand straight in her panties.

 

Okay, she shouldn't keep thinking about other guys when she's getting busy with Sniper, but seriously. Seriously. Every other guy she's fucked has had to be told that that thing is even there. Like, she pretty much had to draw a map sometimes. Sniper just slides his fingertips down between her lips and then he's found it, and _shit_ those callouses are somethin' else. There's little sparks going down her legs and through her tummy, and she can feel her pulse all through her pussy, and she's making weird, high noises in her throat.

 

He stops eating her tit and pushes his face against the side of hers. She can see his grin out of the corner of her eye. Sees it get wider as he slides his fingers lower and pushes one, long and knuckly, into her. Gives it a twist, a curl, a slide in-and-out.

 

“Ah fuck!” A little drool escapes from the corner of her mouth and she wipes at it with the back of her hand before he can see.

 

“Real nice an' wet,” Sniper murmurs into her ear, and Scout suddenly realises that she's not exactly doing much to help the situation along. She hates being dead weight.

 

The first thing that comes into her mind, and she's doing it before she even really thinks about it, is to reach out and grab his crotch. She gropes her hand up his leg to his groin, and she can feel his cock through his jeans, long and firm.

 

He pushes his hips forward, and growls into her ear; “Like the feel o' that?”

 

“Gah, yeah!”

 

“Get them shorts off, you can 'ave a ride on it.”

 

She has her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and panties before he can even pull his finger out of her, and she wiggles around against the rocking of the hammock, shoving them down so quick she's pretty sure she's given herself a friction burn on her butt. One of the legs catches on her sock and pulls it down, but she kicks them off, and now she's out in full view of the base wearing only socks, one of them scrunched around her ankle, and with her bra and t-shirt still shoved up under her armpits.

 

Does she care? She does not.

 

Sniper pulls his fly open and lifts himself on his heels and shoulders so he can shove his jeans down. His cock bobs up away from his body a little, and it takes her a couple of seconds to notice that he wasn't wearing any underwear. She rolls up onto her knees as he lays back down, kicks one leg over him, gets herself in just about the right place, and he's just barely enough of a gentleman to hold his cock still, make it a bit easier for her to get it into her.

 

The rim around the head is wider than the rest by a good way, and it makes a real satisfying little pop as it slips inside her. Sniper grunts and strokes her thighs, and she bears down on him, biting her lip against the little bit of discomfort while her body figures itself out. Bites it again when that thick ridge rides past the real good little spot just inside. Her knees slip on the blanket, and she puts her hands on Sniper's chest to steady herself, and just slides down onto him nice and easy, sweet sparkly feeling in her skin spreading out from where she feels full and hot inside.

 

Sniper makes a real tasty rumbling noise which she can feel through where her hands are resting on his ribs. He shifts his feet and lifts his knees behind her, drags his hands up her sides, grins at her. “Nice,” he murmurs.

 

“You're damn right,” Scout pants at him. “Best freakin' pussy you ever felt.”

 

He barks out a laugh and rolls his hips under her, and shit, the way it shifts his cock inside her feels great. She gets her feet a little more under her weight and lifts up, starts to ride him. Or at least she tries to, but it's hard to get the angle right. The damn hammock keeps swaying, screwing up her moves.

 

“Here,” Sniper says, and he grabs her hips, moves his legs, and then she can feel him stretch out, dig in his heels, arch a little, and the movement of the hammock rocks just right, back-and-forth instead of side-to-side, so he slides out of her a little way. Rocks back and he rolls his hips up just right to slide back in.

 

He does it again, and this time she's going right along with him, following the way he tugs on her hips so the thrust is deeper, harder, and she's got it now, she gets it. He's moving under her, and she's riding and swaying, and the pulses of pleasure inside her and the rocking of the hammock and the shifting and tightening of the fabric under her knees all make her feel like she's drunk, like she's on water, like she's too light.

 

Her hands are groping Sniper's chest, feeling hair and his ribs and his good, hard pecs, and going by the look on his face he really likes that, or maybe he just really likes everything else that's happening. His hands are all over her, groping her ass and squeezing her tits. He flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder when it falls forward. He drags his finger nails over her buttocks, runs his hands round her hips and pulls his thumbnails like zippers down her inner thighs, and it makes her legs and her lower back feel like they're fizzing.

 

They're both panting hard and Scout can hear little noises coming out of the back of her throat which she just can't stop. Her pussy feels so good, the slick and the slide and the pressure inside her, the rub of that sweet ridge. It's throbbing and hot and it feels soothed and roughed up at the same time. She's so ready to come, it's so close, like when her nose wants to sneeze but her lungs aren't playing ball and she ends up making stupid faces. She pushes her hips down harder with each rock forwards, rolls them back more firmly as she comes up.

 

Wants to come.

Wants to come.

Wants to _come_!

 

And then Sniper's hand slides up her thigh and his thumb rubs at the top of her pussy lips, then flicks down right over her happy button.

 

Oh shit yeah, that does the trick.

 

She comes like a fucking grenade going off, yelling and clenching and rocking back and forth, trying to keep it going as long as she can. Sniper has hold of her hips again, and he's bucking up into her, fucking her hard as he can from underneath, and he grunts and hisses through his teeth as he comes.

 

She's dizzy. She can't tell if she's swaying, or if it's the hammock, or both, and suddenly she's pitching forwards. Sniper manages to grab her by the shoulders before she can headbutt him though, so it's all good.

 

She's grinning and gasping, floundering about while her arms try to remember how to work, and Sniper helps her get off of him. He lays her down against him, against his side but closer than before, her legs spread much further across him. His arms are around her waist and she can feel his body hair against all of her front.

 

She feels great, little pulses still going off inside her, all tingly and bright. He looks the least cranky she's ever seen him, as he should. Probably the best lay of his whole damn life. He shows no sign of wanting to move out of the hammock, or of letting go of her waist, and she doesn't care. She'll clean up later and for now, though she can feel spunk dripping out of her, it's getting on him rather than her clothes, so she can't make herself give a fuck. She's still naked, mostly, and he still has his jeans pushed down and his cock out, all floppy and shiny now. Anybody could look out a window and see them.

 

She maybe kind of likes that idea a little.

 

They relax a few minutes, just lie there getting their breath back. The sun's hot, and her nipples are a little sensitive though, so after a while she pulls her shirt back down to cover her tits. Her friend Nancy got sunburned sideboob back in their sophmore year, and it was no joke, and Sniper's chest hair is starting to feel like a wire brush. She still likes the stuff though.

 

Sniper gropes around the on hammock beside his head, his eyes shut, and picks up his hat. Their faces are close together, Scout's nose against his cheek, and he rests the hat on his forehead so that the brim shades her eyes too, which is kinda nice.

 

It feels all intimate, being held so close to him, their faces tucked away in the shade. It occurs to Scout she should say something. Something mature. Worldly. Sophisticated.

 

“I ain't never done it in a hammock before,” she says. “That was pretty neat.”

 

He doesn't answer.

She waits a little.

Still doesn't answer.

 

She turns her head and looks up at his face, and the lazy old fuck is asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that a) female Scout would have far less difficulty getting laid than male Scout but would still be kind of a hot mess,  
> b) Sniper would totally drop into near-coma shortly after coming and be immovable for at least an hour,  
> and c) sunburned sideboob is a terrible horrible thing and you should protect your sideboob at all times.
> 
> Please feel free to share your thoughts on these and any other matters with me :)


End file.
